1.43

I woke up and threw my phone against the wall. Punching a pillow, kicking a mattress in a tantrum tantamount to a twelve year old, furious with angst and anger, rage and confusion and worst of all, the possibility of hope. Looking at the phone, I read the message again. And again. The birth of hope, the promise of pain. And at 1.43, the only woman who could look me in the eye was free.

An honest person, someone I know I could trust. Someone who is kind, intelligent, sweet. Someone whom I could never call mine. A woman so cruel to be kind to me. And so, angry, I work myself up into a rage again. And then calm, I pull the strands of myself together, and watch helplessly as she sinks back from whence she came. Leaving me, still standing, still waiting.

It’s not her concern, none of her business really. It’s not completely her fault and definitely not her worry. While I wonder what horrific sin I have committed to be so accursed as to like someone so perfect. And I sit here, unable to come to grips with myself. Unsure and uncertain and worst of all unable. Refusing to open the box and find a dead cat, playing it safe, standing on the side, too scared to do anything but wait and wish for another life.

Be my rock, be my solace. Be my shouler to cry on. And I would wake up at 1.43 every morning, if only to throw my phone at the wall again and breathe in the crushing air of hope.   

Only You

I want you to know that it was only you. There were others flocking about, in a different order, of a varying proximity. And I would look, and wonder, but never wandered. Despite the years going by, the distance between us which always grew further and further, tantalizingly close for a second; and further still, there was only one. Despite being away, despite being around others, despite trying to run away, bitter and hateful, there was still only one.

I asked myself over and over why. Why was I never able to move on? Why can’t I move on now? What was so incredibly special about someone who turned out to be the complete antithesis of me, someone who crushed me and nearly completely destroyed me? I suppose because through it all, I never had to be anyone or anything other than myself. And I was loved for that.

'

And in a way I understand what happened, although I still never fully understood why. Why someone would be afraid of themselves, would choose to deny everything that made them human, until nothing remains but a shell of a person, a hollow soul, an empty case. And I know there is nothing to go back to and that nothing remains.

Except to settle the final score. The remaining doubt, something which I felt was on her mind. And if I could tell her one thing, I would want her to know that it was only her. Only you. And not just from the first moment I met you, because there was no one before that. A part of me thinks that I may never completely trust anyone else after that. And so one remains, a part of my life, a special, treasured part of my existence, which started from when I met you till we had to say our last goodbye.

And again, despite others coming in the way, distractions and disturbances, time and distance, people and place, there was only ever one.

And I want you to know that it was you.